Jealousy, Ghosts and I Love Yous
by Kazy
Summary: Felicity is going nuts. Not enough sleep, a gorgeous friend going "slightly" overboard with an otherwise fool-proof (if only twisted) plan, and his ex hanging around constantly will do that to a girl. It's not her fault, really, if she's starting to lose it. And giving the most awkward rambles of her life. Oliver/Felicity. Post S2E23.
1. Part I

Hey! I'm back. So this is basically me going nuts after my last-ever-finals and thinking way too much about Arrow when we have so little updates. This is post S2E23 and will only be divided into two parts. And it will **most definitely be Oliver/Felicity** (despite what you guys might think at some points). Fair warning: there is a LOT of Diggle/Felicity friendship because if I could, I'd create a spin-off that would center around these two trading jabs and being friends, and sometimes Oliver would join in on the fun and get half-naked and have steamy make out sessions with Felicity. But this is just me. What do I know about writing a show? I'll stick to fanfictions then.

Without further ado…

**JEALOUSY, GHOSTS & I LOVE YOUs**

**I.**

She's not exactly seething. Jealous? Maybe. Annoyed? Definitely. Transparent? Certainly, but God knows she tries really hard to keep it to herself.

So he told her he loved and it was all a ploy. Hey. At least, he didn't sleep with her. That's still better than the douche from that party at M.I.T who pursued her for weeks only to tell her once she'd given in that "he wasn't looking for that kind of relationship. But you're adorable". Asshole.

Why does she keep doing this to herself, really? She knew what she was getting into when they went to the mansion. Hell, it was even her idea! So she can't really be mad at Oliver for going a little over board and saying he loved her, can she? No. She can't. So why does she keep doing this to herself?

She knows.

It's because of all the hotness. Can anyone really blame her? She's human. She has hormones. She hasn't had time to get laid in months and she only hangs out with nice and very (_very_!) hot-looking dudes suffering from a massive hero-complex. It was easier to keep herself in check when she was working with guys whose only topic of conversation was their life in World of Warcraft and who ate at Subway twice a day.

She grew up watching Disney (and she's apparently not the only one, hello Robin Hood Oliver?). Felicity Smoak blames Disney and her love for teen shows for falling madly in love with the gorgeous best friend who could never think of her "that way". But who has apparently no problem with the rest of the world's female population.

Felicity is angry at herself (and at Oliver too, but really, she's mostly seething at her uncanny ability to pick guys that are just _wrong_ for her).

Because the truth is, she can rationalize the entire thing. Oliver would be terrible for her. She knows he would be. They would make the worst couple. Right? She even made a list.

1. He has shown that he can kill (yeah, but now he won't because he finally realizes that there's always an other way, even one that breaks her heart in the process, great work Felicity!)

2. He has a harem of women lusting after him (yes, she's one of them, so what?) and is so used to the attention it mostly barely ever registers on his radar except when he needs to get laid (see: Sara, Isabel)

3. He's bone-headed

4. He thinks he's always right

5. He's too gorgeous

6. He has the weirdest commitment issues

7. He thinks that he can decide the way she leads her life

But all of this is not even important because number 8: he's not interested in her that way. He loves her, sure. Like a friend. He absolutely loves the way she sees him. Like a hero. A hot hero with a gorgeous muscled torso. And shoulders. Man, his shoulders…

The pinging noise of her research brings Felicity out of her fantasy, and back to her annoyance. And anger. Aimed at herself. Because she's a moron who doesn't learn. That Oliver is never going to be interested in her. Ever. Exhibit A is currently concentrating on how to give a punch with all of her strength to a training dummy. Exhibit A is tall, slender, super skinny, all long-hair and long eye-lashes that get Oliver all brainwashed in one bat.

Oh he doesn't mind training Gorgeous Laurel. Not one bit. Diggle is the poor one in charge of teaching her how to defend herself, but Oliver volunteers immediately when Gorgeous Laurel joins the team and asks to be trained so she can compare with Sara.

Felicity snorts. Gorgeous Laurel can try all she wants, but she'll never be Sara. Which, frankly, is not that bad because that'd mean that Gorgeous Laurel has been devastated by a terrible psycho, broken by another, and rebuilt by the League of Assassins. Felicity might admire Sara, but she sure as hell doesn't wish she could be her. Felicity is happy to still be able to enjoy a pint of mint chipped ice cream while watching TV shows and sipping on red wine on Sunday evenings.

Apparently, that ship has sailed a long time ago for Gorgeous Laurel. Maybe it's because she can no longer drink the red wine.

So that leaves Gorgeous Laurel coming to their new lair every goddamn night to train with "Ollie" and ask when she can join in on the field-fun. And Oliver eagerly says yes. And trains her. And replays a weird version of the "Ghost" scene, except there's no music, no clay, a practice dummy and Felicity sitting in the background trying to ignore their chuckles and groans. Oh, and thank god, there's no kissing or sex either.

At that point, Felicity wishes they'd just do it already so she can be able to concentrate on her work properly. In the meantime, she'll keep biting her lips, clench her jaw and focus on her task.

To think that it used to be so easy. Back at M.I.T, there were no distractions. Just plain coding and hacking fun.

The good thing with anger and hurt, it's that at one point it all blurs into a buzzing white noise that covers Laurel and Oliver's easy banter and she can finally focus. Diggle's gone to pick their food order at that delicious Chinese place, and Roy is god knows where. So that leaves her. And her research on Thea. And her jealousy.

After hours and hours of training (how much stamina do they have, really?), Laurel eventually packs her stuff and wipes her forehead with the back of her hand. Felicity glances at her from the corner of her eyes and wants to roll them and gag.

Even drenched in sweat, Laurel Lance stays Gorgeous. When Felicity sweats, her entire shirt is dripping, her hair curls haphazardly in a very bad impression of the worst years of Bonnie Tyler, and all her muscles twitch like she suffers from the creepiest OCD. Nothing gorgeous about it, nope.

"I'm going to visit my dad, but if you guys need me tonight, don't hesitate, okay?"

Felicity rolls her eyes. Thank god her back is to them and Laurel is too focused on Oliver to notice. It's been the same charade every goddamn late-afternoon-evening for a month. Laurel comes in, trains for hours and hours (the longest was three hours but it always feels way more), and then she goes visit her father who has finally gotten out of his coma and been getting better by the day. To finish with, she almost begs to be called in for Team Arrow business. Which, for some reason, Oliver still hasn't relented on doing.

This is the weirdest foreplay that Felicity has ever been privy to. And her freshman year roommate was a nymphomaniac sorority girl at MIT. So that is saying a lot.

"Will do," Oliver nods with a kind smile.

Felicity wants to snort and smirk but she manages to suppress all of it. This is Oliver's way to let Gorgeous Laurel down easy. Granted, it's no "because of the life that I lead" speech, or patronizing silent smile — these are especially for her — but it's still a way for Oliver to say "not gonna happen" without actually wording it.

"Okay, good night, Ollie. Bye Felicity!"

Felicity barely turns, waving her hand distractedly.

"Bye!"

It's weird. Since Laurel learnt that there is a reason other than sleeping together for Oliver and Felicity's relationship, there's been a new edge in her tone (Felicity thinks it's respect, but it might also be slight jealousy which she still can't explain). Sometimes, Laurel's even nice to her and asks her stuff. Like, how she is, if it's not too hard to work with so many grumpy guys, if she needs any help. But the truth is, it both weirds them out too much so they keep their answers brief (she's good, Oliver is the only grumpy one, and no thanks but she's got it).

Oliver and Laurel exchange one more "bye" (because why the hell not?), prompting another eye roll from Felicity, and then she is finally out the door.

'Thank god!' Felicity feels like sighing, and closes her eyes in relief. No more weird grunting and groaning and muffled sounds.

But that means that there's total silence — which is completely new. In the past month, there's always been noise: moving stuff around, people (the rest of the team) training, missions being conducted. And grunting and groaning from Oliver and Gorgeous Laurel.

With the silence comes the realization that Felicity has not been alone with Oliver since that very awkward, cringe-inducing confrontation scene on the beach on Lian Yu. Where she basically gave Oliver the opportunity to tell her that he meant it. Opportunity that, in case she's forgotten, he hasn't taken. Patronizing silent smile was his wonderfully clear response. Talk about letting a girl down easy.

She still doesn't know what she prefers. A self-righteous speech or a smile that means "you're adorable"? Ha, let's be honest she hates them both.

"You okay?" Oliver asks, very close to her.

She jumps, because she was deep in her thoughts (quietness does that to her) and did not expect him to talk to her. Why? She doesn't know. They haven't really talked in a month. He doesn't need any more pep talks, and he sort of hurt her the last two times they spoke so she's fine with being put on the back burner. She'd be happier if he didn't forget that she's in the room, but what can she do?

"What?" he stammers.

Felicity blinks.

"What?" she repeats.

Please make it so that she hasn't said it out loud. Or muttered.

"I don't forget that you're in the room," he insists.

Oh. So she said it out loud. And she now has to fight the pressing need to plaster her palm across her face. Whatever. Fine. She can treat him with his own medicine. The patronizing silent smile.

"Okay," she says — she can't be _that_ silent. Not from lack of trying though.

But Oliver doesn't let go and frowns as Diggle steps inside the room with their food order. Oh thank god for Diggle, the best buffer the world has ever invented.

"Is this about Laurel? What do you have against her?"

Felicity blinks again because usually, Oliver is the King of Avoidance, the Emperor of Things Left Unsaid and she was sort of counting on that to be forgotten once again. Except, for some reason tonight, not only does Oliver not mind Diggle's presence, he also wants answers.

"Nothing," she replies.

Which is true. She doesn't have anything against Laurel. Gorgeous Laurel. She's just insanely jealous and it's not fair.

"Just… how long are you going to wait for before putting all of us out of our misery?"

Oliver turns to share a look of disbelief with Diggle.

"What are you talking about?"

Felicity knows she's said too much by then. She's made her bed. Now she has to lie in it (alone). Whatever. She's practically begged him for a confirmation of his feelings. How more humiliating can it get?

Mmh. Knowing her, she can find new depths. Oh well. She's exhausted. And jealous.

"When are you going back to dating Gorgeous Laurel? Because this workout-foreplay is frankly distracting and exhausting. She wants you. You want her. Just do it already and let us concentrate on our mission."

There's a long silence where Felicity wishes the floor would open right under her and swallow her. A glance at Diggle makes her aware that he's trying really hard not to laugh out loud. Oliver however? Looks completely baffled.

"Again: what are you talking about?"

"Your workout-ghost reenactment where she's Demi Moore and you're obviously Patrick Swayze," Felicity elaborates. Oh yeah. He's totally Patrick Swayze. She bets he can pull that carrying move from Dirty Dancing too.

It's Oliver's turn to blink, and move to face Diggle in inquiry.

"Is it what it looks like?" he asks.

Diggle holds his hands up in front of him, because he's a vicious traitor who obviously knows better than to get between Oliver and his women. But Felicity is part of his women. Huh. Actually, no. She's his _girl_. How _adorable_. Because Oliver doesn't see her as a woman.

"Felicity, I'm not getting back together with Laurel."

Felicity is a moron, who should really know better but can't help herself because she doesn't have any control over her mouth. That's why instead of saying "Tell _her_ that", she goes with a genuinely surprised:

"Why not?"

"What do you mean 'why not'?" Oliver asks.

Felicity rolls her eyes and stares at Diggle.

"Am I suddenly speaking an entirely different language or something? Or do my questions really make no sense? Actually, never mind, it's none of my business. I just thought…"

She trails off, going back in her mind, and waves off the entire thing as she turns in her chair to face her computers. In silence. Without grunting and groaning. She's trying to ignore the fluttering in her chest at the knowledge that he doesn't want to get back together with Laurel, because really, this isn't helping. What would help? Going out. And not just going out in general (like, with a guy). _GO OUT_. Of the foundry-that's-not-the-foundry-anymore-because-of-Slade. Urgh. Slade. Way to ruin her life and her perfectly unhealthy relationship with Oliver.

"You just thought what?" Oliver insists.

What's with him and insistence tonight? Seriously? The guy hates communicating and suddenly he wants to understand her point of view?

"Nothing! I guess you care too much about her already," she mutters, because she's tired and he's pushing her and maybe if she makes him too uncomfortable he'll finally back off.

"You're going to need to be a little more clear than that."

So she sighs and spins her chair to plunge a paternalistic look in Oliver's eyes and explain everything very slowly. Because whatever he's doing with Laurel? Is completely dumb. Just because Felicity is miserable in the love department (miserable doesn't even cover it at that point, 2014 was _not_ a good year for her heart) there's no reason for her to be a bitch about it. Might as well get used to it as soon as possible and soften the blow. Maybe that'll help her move on.

"Well, it all makes total sense when you think about it. Slade had the right girl from the get go and now you're enforcing your entire" she moves her hands in front of her awkwardly and drops her voice in a pathetic imitation of Oliver that sounds like a Neanderthal — which he is, "'_I can't be with someone I care about_' rule to protect her. Except, really, Oliver, that's bull. She clearly doesn't want to be protected. Or if she does, she's more interested in 'the full body protection' if you get my drift… Come to think of it, I think the idea that you're the Arrow turns her on, because she had the hots for him, and she's obviously still in love with you so now it's kind of the very best of both worlds" and then her eyes take in Oliver's utter shock at her words and she _hears herself_, and she wants to die instantly, "and I'm going to shut up now. Because I think past experiences show that _me_, having an opinion about _your_ sex life, leads to the most awkward conversations. Like this one. Oh my _god_, someone please just stop me already."

"Okay, time to eat!" Diggle jumps in, his face showing an impressive mix of embarrassment and amusement.

"Oh thank you. I'm starving."

Oliver stays completely silent. Now that's more like the Oliver that she knows! Well, she did go on full-uncomfortable mode, to be fair. She'd be stunned into silence too if she were subjected to the same amount of word vomit. Or maybe not. She doesn't know. She's never met someone as bad as her at expressing themselves as she is. Maybe it's because she didn't have a lot of people to talk to when she was a kid?

Is she seriously psychoanalyzing herself in her mind right now?

Is he thinking her words over? He looks like he's thinking her words over. If he ends up relenting and going full-on workout-ghost on the mats tomorrow thanks to her, he better remember to shut the cameras off. No need to see him do it with the other Lance sister this time.

They start eating, all deciding to ignore her latest shameful ramble — thank goodness — as Diggle begins a less cringe-worthy conversation: his baby.

Felicity is so excited about the news it's ridiculous. Diggle told her she'd be his kid's aunt. She's a single child, she's never going to be a real aunt so that's how she explains her overjoyed reaction to everything Baby Diggle related. Or maybe it's because it's the single positive news they've had in literally two years.

"I can't wait to know if it's a boy or a girl. I bought stuff, everything white! Which is stupid, I know, because he or she is going to barf a lot and it'll be a bitch to clean. Urgh. Come to think of it, maybe I'll return all of it. Maybe it's bad luck and I need to just stop buying stuff. What if Lyla miscarries? It'll be all my fault! I'll totally return everything. Except the stuffed Robin Hood. I just couldn't help it. It's adorable! Whatever, if you guys end up not needing it, I'll keep it for me."

Diggle blinks, like Oliver did not that long ago, and frowns while Oliver stops eating altogether.

"What's going on with you?"

She startles and it's her turn to frown.

"Nothing, why? I'm tired, that's all."

Diggle understands immediately and nods in compassion. She told him why she doesn't really sleep that well. Sometimes, she wishes she could be Diggle. Because he's always collected, he has all of his shit together, and he seems like he understands Oliver and her dynamic way better than she ever has. Oliver notices his nod and doesn't seem to like it.

"Why are you tired?"

"Because I work a lot?"

That's a blatant lie. Diggle knows it. She knows it. Oliver obviously knows it. And they all let it go. Now that's more like it!

The guys prepare for their patrol, deciding to focus on a specific part of the Glades for the night. As Diggle goes to get his car, Oliver lingers in the foun— new lair, goddammit she needs to get used to it already, prompting Felicity's heart to beat faster and her hands to become so moist she has to wipe them against her skirt.

Gosh she's so gross.

"You've got it wrong," he says eventually, his tone serious.

"What?"

"If I'm not getting back together with Laurel it's not because I'm scared or anything. It's because I don't want to. What you see… What we… We're in a good place — as friends, I mean. When he took Laurel, Slade didn't take the woman that I love, he was wrong anyway."

Felicity opens her mouth, stunned into silence. That's the most words Oliver has told her since his fake declaration. She gulps, and nods, trying — and failing — to shrug like she doesn't care.

"Like I said, it's none of my business. I just don't want you to walk away from someone who could make you happy for stupid reasons is all. But again. None of my business."

Again with the patronizing silent smile. It breaks the spell. She hates that smile. The one that makes her feel cute and adorable. Screw that.

"Now go."

Oliver nods, but before he turns, he drops his hand on her shoulder and Felicity has the toughest time not shrinking away from his touch.

"Why aren't you sleeping?"

Felicity bites her lips. She can't tell him why sleep eludes her and she's slowly becoming insane. He'll blame himself, and deep down it's not his fault. She volunteered. She brought this on herself.

She can't sleep because she remembers the roller-coaster of emotions that was that endless night; the fleeting feeling of hope that she tried to tame with all her strength, the anguish that made her stomach churn while she waited to be kidnapped, and the deep terror that iced her skin for hours while Slade held her hostage.

This entire evening also triggered a lot of memories from the night the Count abducted her, and it's becoming difficult to deal with this — that's not even mentioning the concussion from the accident, nor the numerous moments of fear throughout the evening. It's not exactly like she can talk about it to a shrink either. So she does the next best thing. She tells Diggle when he notices, and eats a lot of ice cream. She should be worried that she's not getting fatter — it's the nerves, they burn calories faster than a jog, lucky her — but she's too tired to care.

But she knows that if she tells Oliver that she doesn't sleep because she's starting to be scared of the dark, he'll worry, he'll blame himself, he'll act all concerned and she doesn't need that. She needs to stop theorizing and reading too much into his actions every time he does something nice to her.

And that starts now. So she takes a step away from him, and rolls her eyes like it doesn't matter, with a dismissive wave of her hand.

"The usual. How are we going to get QC back, what if a mission goes wrong for any of you, why can't I find Thea… I just worry too much and my mind's on a loop. It'll get better, it's just… it's been a tough year, you know?"

None of this is completely false, so kudos to her. Oliver smiles sadly, and there's a glint that Felicity struggles to ignore in his eyes as they seek hers.

"I know. I couldn't have done any of it without you. I hope you know that."

She tilts her head. Appreciation? From Oliver? Hell must be freezing over somewhere.

"Well, thank you for saying it anyways. Now go, John's waiting for you!"

Oliver smiles again, and leaves the new lair after another long serious look that makes Felicity tingle. She shakes her head in annoyance and forces herself to get back to business as usual.

From that day on, Oliver trains Laurel from a five foot distance, arms crossed and they don't laugh as much. If Laurel notices the difference, she doesn't say anything. As for Felicity, she signs up on a dating website.

* * *

More time passes, and the exhaustion doesn't go away. If anything, it gets worse for Felicity. The good thing is, she's so tired at that point that it mostly feels like she's high. Laurel still shows up often, but she has apparently taken the hint and she trains on her own, asking for Diggle's comments sometimes. Diggle stays very professional — almost cold, wary of Laurel.

John is Felicity's favorite person in the entire world.

It's difficult to have Laurel around that often, and to see her fight that well. She progresses rapidly (unlike Felicity who still avoids John's fake attacks with screams) and even puts on some weight, to the point where it's becoming difficult for Oliver to keep her at bay without a good excuse.

"I swear I'll listen, Ollie," Laurel pleads one night. "If you say to stay put, I'll stay put."

"Why do you keep wanting to put yourself in danger?" Oliver thunders.

"I want to help!"

"Being the D.A helps enough, trust me! What if people recognize you?"

Felicity wants to snort at that. The guy wouldn't wear a mask for a whole year and he's throwing that stupid argument to Laurel? Dig is leaning against Felicity's desk while they both stare at the two of them fighting. She oddly wonders if that's how Oliver and her look like when they have words. Laurel is trying to step toward Oliver and make him face her, but he always moves out of her grasp and barely faces her.

"Diggle doesn't wear a mask!"

Felicity frowns and glances at her friend. Huh. She'd never really thought about it. Roy got a mask, even an outfit — and a name. He's the Red Arrow. What does that make Diggle? He can't be the Black Bullet that sounds way too racist (but also, kinda cool). The Cool Bullet? That doesn't sound scary enough. Maxi-Biceps? Felicity wants to laugh out loud.

God she really needs to sleep.

"Yeah man, I don't wear a mask," Diggle grunts.

Oliver throws him a menacing look that leaves Diggle unimpressed but goes back to fight with his ex. That, is entertaining and a nice change from the grunting Felicity has grown accustomed to where they're concerned.

"Laurel…"

"Look, if it's because I'm not ready just say so! I'll train more. Whatever the reason, I can work with it, I can… _I want to help!_" she adds.

And there it is, that's the moment: Felicity feels really bad for Laurel. Urgh. She was fine with being jealous of her so far. Now she has to feel bad for the girl?

"Okay," Oliver finally sighs. "Fine, just this once."

And all compassion disappears from Felicity's body. She stares at Oliver, stunned, while Diggle's face closes and he shakes his head. Laurel looks so happy, it seems like she can't believe it. Well. Felicity stays quiet, her shoulders slumping. It was only a matter of time anyway. Might as well get used to it, Laurel is really going to be taking her sister's spot on the team. How long until she gets her motorcycle license and drives alongside Oliver on her very own Ducati?

While everyone is getting ready in silence — even Laurel stays quiet, Felicity thinks she's nervous — she checks her dating account on her cellphone and accepts a date with a certain Gregory. She's run a background check on him, he looks as boring and normal as she dreamed of two years ago.

Great. She can't wait.

No, it's not true, she can totally wait but she can't stay in that annoying misery any longer, really.

By the time everyone goes, Felicity is so exhausted she has to walk around the foun— new lair, to wake herself up, hacks into the surveillance cameras at the harbor to keep an eye on her friends, and tries changing the code in her oldest program. Then when they get to the pier to patrol, Felicity begins to chat to keep herself awake and the stuff that comes out of her mouth quickly turns out to be legendary. Honest to God, she doesn't remember half of the things that she says. It starts with "watch out, there are a few dockers over there" which somehow leads to an analysis of the metaphor of the whale in Pinocchio, and eventually finishes in a firework of words that wonder what kind of animals her teammates are terrified of.

Laurel laughs at every one of her antics, and Felicity is under the impression that it's good for her to have another girl in her ear. She can't help but think that Laurel must feel so much better about herself when she sees and hears Felicity but oddly enough she manages to keep that thought to herself.

After half an hour, Diggle tries to hint that they need to cut the patrol short because Felicity's too tired, and Oliver stays surprisingly quiet, keeping Laurel behind him to protect her.

Turns out he's right to do so because not two minutes later, they witness shady men lurking around a massive yacht.

"I need you to stay here," Oliver orders, already stepping towards the danger (because he's a hero and apparently he doesn't trust Laurel _that_ much, so really why bring her along in the first place?).

"Why?" Laurel whispers, surprised.

Felicity can't help the flashback — or the next words that stumble out of her mouth — and giggles awkwardly.

"Ha! Careful Laurel, in two seconds he'll tell you he loves you."

Her sentence is met with the heaviest silence ever. Like that one time when she called her teacher 'mom' in the fourth grade and there was a fleeting eerie silence right before everyone burst out laughing — except this time it's a thousand times worse, and absolutely no one is laughing.

"What?" Laurel says, clearly confused.

"What, we can't laugh about it?" Felicity grumbles. "It's been a month and a half already! We can laugh about it, it's no big deal."

She knows she'd rather laugh about it. Because it will rewrite the memory, and she'll stop focusing on the way he looked at her that night, at how he held her hand and pressed it tenderly right before he slipped the syringe in her palm, asking her if she understood.

Only to leave her to be abducted by a total psycho with a _needle_ as her only means of defense. Really. A needle. Talk about worst-case scenario. Maybe she should consider herself lucky. It could have been worse, really, when she thinks about it — it could have ended up being a situation where she had to eat her limbs off like that James Franco movie. Mmh. Having to stab someone with a needle while feeling a blade on her neck comes really close though. Seriously Oliver. A _needle_.

If she concentrates on the needle (which she'd known was the only way to get rid of Slade from the get go) she can forget about the three stupid words that came out of nowhere.

"Can we focus please?" Oliver asks with a strained voice.

"Yeah, focus," she repeats.

Diggle stays quiet, and when all is said and done, she's shouldn't be surprised when he's the first one to get to the new lair and stomps towards her, forcing her to look him in the eyes by grabbing her chin, and studying her face.

"I liked it better when we did team hugs," she mumbles.

"How long have you slept this week?" Diggle demands.

Felicity blushes and avoids his stare but he drops her chin to hold her arm, preventing her from turning away from him and go back to her computer.

"Felicity, how long?"

"I don't know," she lies.

He doesn't even have to say anything. One look, and she understands that he's seething.

"You've lost weight. He's going to catch up sooner or later. If you don't want to talk about it with him, I strongly suggest that you answer."

"Five hours?" she finally relents.

Diggle sighs desperately and wipes a worried hand over his face.

"Look, I'm fine," Felicity says soothingly. "It was just a joke! If anyone can joke about what he said that night, it's me okay?"

"You never told me he said he loved you," Diggle grounds out.

Oops? Felicity slumps on her chair, sighing too. Well. It's not like it is a secret or anything. There was a recording of the whole thing for god's sakes. If she was really crazy, she would have kept Slade's tablet and watched that scene display on a loop. Maybe she should feel comfort in the knowledge that she could be _more_ pathetic than she feels now.

She scoffs, too exhausted to care.

"Well, you know, there _is_ some humiliating stuff that I actually like to keep to myself. Usually."

But Diggle is pacing in front of her, like he can't wait for Oliver to show and she grows worried.

"That wasn't part of the plan, though."

Felicity rolls her eyes.

"It's not like we took the time to rehearse or anything. I'm fine, Digg, don't tear him a new one. I joked about it! It was an actual joke! And I'm dating! Actually, no, not right now, but I'm going on a date! See? No need to freak. Please, leave that whole thing alone. I swear I'll stop being so weird."

Diggle looks at her, debating her arguments in his head, and finally walks towards the medical cupboard to retrieve a vial and a syringe. Felicity flinches upon seeing this. Please no needles. She has really had it with the needle-theme that's been running in her life lately.

"You need to sleep. Now I understand the nightmares and the anguish but enough is enough. Come on. I'll drive you home, and then you're taking some of that."

Felicity gulps, because there is absolutely no room for debate in his tone. She gathers her coat and her purse and stands awkwardly in front of him.

"Is there any chance this might be efficient if I just drink it? And we don't involve any syringe of any kind in that sleep-situation?"

Diggle actually smiles, wraps his arm around her shoulders and drops a kiss at the top of her head. She finds herself furrowing her head in his chest and exhaling. Diggle is wonderful. It feels perfect to have a relationship that is completely clear and drama-free.

"We'll figure a harmless way to get you to sleep. And you're taking three days off to rest. I mean it."

She knows there's no arguing this time. Felicity smiles sleepily.

"You're going to make such a great dad!" she grins. "Just… leave Oliver alone, okay? He did what he had to do."

Diggle's jaw is clenched so hard that she barely hears his next words.

"No, he didn't."

They stay silent on the drive home, but Diggle has warned Oliver that he'd find the new lair empty upon his return. When they get to her place, Felicity is so exhausted that she barely feels the pinch of the needle, and she sleeps for twenty hours straight. When she wakes up, Diggle is there keeping vigil and won't hear her protests. She barely has soup before she goes back to a deep slumber of nothing.

And for the first time in six weeks, she doesn't have any nightmares.

* * *

She remembers why she doesn't date, and she remembers very quickly. Dating sucks. Her nymphomaniac roommate from MIT told her that to take the pressure off she should only see the date as a free meal. That only made Felicity feel worse about the whole thing. That's why she always goes for coffee. First of all: she loves coffee so no disappointment there. Second of all: she doesn't feel bad for not putting out, kissing or even holding his hand even if he pays lobster in a caviar marinade and four bottles of expensive red wine.

However, dating brings Felicity to her knees. At that point, she'd rather go back to being bait for a serial-killer than to have to spend an entire day knowing that at 5 she'll be waiting for a dude she's never met and have a conversation.

It doesn't even matter if he's insanely hot or just plain ugly, the entire situation makes her so ill at ease that she always goes off in the weirdest rambles that leave the men at a loss. Some find it charming, the others blink a lot and then never call.

In three weeks, she dates Gregory, Alec, Daniel and Colin. They entertain her enough that she doesn't think about weird love declarations or being held hostage. Gregory is an accountant, Alec a sports coach, Daniel an investment analyst, and Colin a bartender, but they all have one thing in common: they're utterly boring.

It's official: Oliver Queen has ruined her for other men.

And, really, it has nothing to do with three words uttered out of nowhere. It has everything to do with him crashing in her tiny car two years ago, all wounded and trusting.

None of them flirt with flimsy lies, none of them have a cute grin that screams "bullshit", none of them spike her interest. Maybe that's because of the background checks. Maybe she needs to stop and let herself be surprised. So what if they end up having killed their own mothers? Even criminals can be cute and interesting.

The truth is, lately, she's driven by jealousy. Laurel is one thing (she tries to stop comparing herself to her because that leads to pints of ice cream and the cashier from Seven Eleven is starting to look at her sadly), but Felicity has calmed down a little since Oliver has refused to let her join in since the harbor-patrol debacle (maybe she needs to bring up the "I love you" more often because it guilts him into doing her bidding). But Diggle is something else entirely.

"I take it it didn't go well with— who was it? Colin?" Diggle asks when he sees her the next morning in the elevator at QC.

"Shut up," she growls. "I resent all of you."

Diggle chuckles, and leans against the railing, amused.

"All of us who? Us men?"

"No. You and your biceps. They're an entire entity. I even named them. Big A and Big B."

Diggle's smirk spreads.

"You need to stop with that. What did I do? How did I mess up your dating plan?"

"You can't understand," she argues petulantly as they reach the executive floor and the doors open. "You have the perfect life."

Diggle's eyebrows fly up his forehead as they walk in the direction of the conference room.

"Do I now?"

"Yes. You have a badass non-boring wife who knows all your secrets and loves you back and she's pregnant. And not boring. Hey, remember when you barged into a secret facility with her and threatened her boss with guns and criminals? How not-boring was that?"

Diggle tilts his head, hesitating between laughing out loud or hugging her in comfort. She could use a hug. But she's too mad and jealous of his life to accept it. So she smiles awkwardly and lets him laugh.

"So Colin was another boring one?"

His eyes are glinting with amusement.

"He likes going to his parents' cabin in the woods and just read for hours. Not on a tablet or a computer — he doesn't believe in ebooks, can you hear this? Who doesn't believe in ebooks? They're the best thing ever!"

John smirks as they penetrate the conference room and she joins Oliver to discuss how they can get QC back with Walter, who brought a friend ready to invest and help Oliver out.

That day is the day Felicity meets Ted Kord.

He's really hot and smart — and doesn't seem boring, she even finds that he also has a "bullshit" grin — but he doesn't really register on her radar _that_ way. Because apparently something's wrong with her.

She totally registers on Ted's radar though.

* * *

She doesn't know what comes over her. Mmh. No, actually, she knows. She's angry and jealous of everyone that is not her. Which is ridiculous because she should be over the moon — she's healthy, she's smart, she's doing stuff that makes her happy (hacking on a daily basis is her definition of happiness, so what?).

It's called spiraling (yes, she googled it), and she's spinning out of control. She can tell Diggle and Oliver have both noticed, because she's quieter than ever and even when they try to joke and banter with her they are met with a wall of weirdness that would make even the biggest people person uncomfortable.

And that makes her angry, because Diggle knows why she's spiraling and he tries really hard to support her to no avail, and Oliver must suspect the reason but is also very aware of his hand in the matter. So Oliver keeps his distance out of "respect" or "niceness", and Diggle tries to get her to sleep and eat and go out with friends. Turns out, she doesn't really have any. Because her former friends are exactly like her dates: boring and normal.

So she's angry, and after a few weeks, she finally finds herself alone in the new lair and it feels great. Like "coming out for air after you've been choking to death because it's so crowded all the time" great — Felicity is one for overstatements lately. She almost considers locking herself inside the new lair, resetting the entrance code and feel completely at peace for the first time in weeks (come to think of it, thank goodness she never had a little brother), because that's how much she enjoys her fortress of solitude. Yes. She compares herself to Superman.

She's losing it — and she's started not sleeping again.

Felicity is collecting reports about important news, and finds herself intrigued about the ones that deal with a new drug that is running through the streets of Starling City. This drug is like Vertigo on crack. Which is saying something, even though Felicity has never done Vertigo, nor tried crack. But it looks nuts — people who take that drug apparently feel so ecstatic and out-of-themselves, some of them have heart attacks.

The reports mention a leader they smartly call "The Ghost" (obviously, journalists have less imagination than Felicity because she can't help but imagine the guy creeping up on high people and reenact that famous scene from that movie and then she laughs out loud). Turns out he didn't earn this nickname because of his clay-manipulating skills, but because he manages to go around undetected while always delivering his drugs to specific areas. He has sellers sort of everywhere.

So Felicity anticipates and looks for intel about who the sellers could be and where they sell from — she contacts Sin after she hacks into Roy's cellphone and gets the response in a few hours. She's just doing her duty and anticipating Team Arrow's needs so they can take the operation down as soon as possible.

By the time she gets all the info, it's nighttime and Felicity is surprised that she's still alone. Oliver is at another meeting with Walter and Ted Kord (who has asked her out discreetly the other day and she still can't wrap her mind around that), Laurel is thankfully out doing D.A business, and according to his cellphone Roy is at Verdant, trying to get it back to its former glory.

Felicity misses Verdant.

So when Sin's response blinks on her screen, Felicity finds herself tilting her head. She knows it's a bad idea as soon as it enters her mind. But, like most terrible ideas, once it's in, you can't shake it. Maybe that's what happened to Oliver the night Slade went all Apocalypse Now on Starling. Maybe when she told him to make Slade believe he had the wrong woman, Oliver thought "mmh, maybe he won't believe it, maybe I should make it clearer and say I love you that won't be awkward".

The thing is, in that exact case, she _knows_ it's going to work.

So, okay, granted, it'd be better if she had backup but at the same time, no one is here, it's going to take hours before they pick who is going on the field and it'll end up being her. Might as well win some time. Laurel can't go — she's the D.A, how would that look? Oliver can't go, he's trying to get QC back, what if anyone talks? Diggle went last time and complained about being a person of color picked to get some drugs. Roy… Well, okay, Roy could totally go but he's not here and she needs a project otherwise she'll either fall asleep or go batshit crazy.

She has the intel, so she can go score the drugs discreetly, and (probably) come back before anyone notices. If anyone asks, she'll tell that Sin got her hands on them, or she'll tell the truth and it won't matter anyway.

So she's made her mind. Felicity looks up her teammates' positions (they haven't moved), types the address into her cell, and goes home to change.

She has to infiltrate a lousy club that opened right after Verdant to try and take advantage of the gentrification of the area. Felicity is well aware that it was a failure, and that the patrons that party in that club aren't exactly the rich kids that venture in the Glades to go in Oliver Queen's club.

The good thing about working in Vegas and having a cocktail waitress as a mother, it's that you have experience with all kinds of people. The low-life kind, the desperately-normal kind, the filthy-rich kind and the skanky-kind. Felicity might be super awkward, but she knows where she comes from (the North side of Vegas) and she remembers how the tramps from her neighborhood dressed and behaved when they wanted something.

Felicity can dress up as a tramp like no one else. Wearing too much make up? Check. Emptying the can of cheap and barely efficient hairspray on her head? Check. Putting on a gold short dress and high heels? Check. Who looks cute and adorable now? Not her! Cute and adorable are out the window.

Felicity barely contains a sigh. She looks like her former bitchy high-school classmates when they went to party illegally on the Strip.

Talk about going undercover.

She has barely been sitting in the cab in the direction of the seedy club Sin mentioned when her cellphone rings — it's Diggle. She debates whether to answer, because he'll hear the angst in her voice — her hands are already shaking — but in the end, she can't let him worry about her. She can't lie to him. She can't go out to face danger and not tell him why.

"_Hey, where are you?_" Diggle asks immediately.

Oh goodness, he's already at the new lair.

"I'm following intel, it shouldn't take long," she says breezily, like it's no big deal.

There's the shortest pause.

"_What kind of intel? Please tell me it's not about what's on your desktop._"

He's mad, she can tell. Pissing Oliver off, she can get over. Disappointing Diggle? That makes her feel bad. But she's too far gone now, she… she needs to do this. She needs to be in charge of something or else she'll go nuts.

"I'm already there, it won't take long and I'll be right back I swear."

"_Felicity, please don't,_" and, honest to god, there's fear in John's voice, "_this is not safe and you don't have back up_."

"Sure I do! I took a comm, I'm not totally crazy! You can hook yourself up and monitor everything from where you are."

She hears Diggle type on the keyboard quickly and mutter something under his breath.

"_You're moving_," Diggle grunts out. "_You're not there._"

Felicity rolls her eyes.

"I'm almost there!"

"_Oliver's going to freak when he sees this, you know that, right?_"

That lights up a flame of hurt and anger that all mix together in Felicity chest and stomach, as her fist clenches around the phone.

"Well if he does," she says through gritted teeth, "tell him he trusted me enough to hand me over to his arch-nemesis so he should trust me enough to be able to buy stuff we need in order to take down another psycho."

She can't say anything else, her throat is too tight. So she hangs up before John can get another word out. And she doesn't turn the comm on.

[**NEXT:** Part Two - Oliver's POV]

* * *

**Author's Note:** so here's the thing. That story was initially written with Felicity not knowing about the plan (which had Felicity even angrier and more hurt and frankly going even crazier) because that's what 80 percent of the fandom seems to think and I clearly have no personality. But when I wrote Oliver's POV it honestly made no sense to me that she didn't know (mainly, it doesn't sit right with me that Felicity would argue to Oliver that she simply wants to stay with _him_, and not go with her usual 'my life my choice' motto). The biggest argument that people make to justify that Felicity didn't know is the fact that Oliver would have given her the cure beforehand, but to me it's an editing choice from the producers: to help people understand that the declaration was staged, they had to show us the whole thing at the same place, otherwise it would have been too long and confusing. I do think Felicity looked that shocked because they got lost in the moment (clearly, Oliver did). Also, you'll see next chapter that I have a very good explanation for Oliver not handing the cure before that goes beyond that (that's the beauty of fanfiction, isn't it?).

Anyway, thank you for reading! I'm very, very interested in your thoughts (and, full disclosure: kinda nervous too) so feel free to share them!


	2. Part II

Thankyouthankyouthankyou for the amazing support and response to the first part of this story. You guys rock. So I really, really hope that this next (and final) part will not disappoint. Fair warning: we're in Oliver's head, so it's a lot less fun and a lot more angsty. This begins where the previous chapter left off. And also, I took some liberties with the tenses (flashback times, people!) so I hope it's still clear. Let me know.

**JEALOUSY, GHOSTS & I LOVE YOUs**

**II.**

Oliver steps into the new lair to find Diggle nervously tapping his foot on the floor, while typing on the keyboard angrily. He looks like he's trying to hack into something, which lets Oliver know immediately that something is wrong.

"What's up?" he asks. "Where's Felicity?"

From the murderous look that Diggle welcomes him with, Oliver knows he's not going to like the answer.

"Felicity," John begins, enunciating each syllable in barely contained anger, "is getting us some of that new drug after using Sin as intel."

"What?" Oliver exclaims. "Where is she?"

"Oh she's in that wonderful part of town between the Glades and the shady area of the harbor. In that club that opened right after Verdant, XL? You know, the one that almost closed down because of a _rape_?"

His tone is so accusatory, it chokes Oliver.

He doesn't ask why she would do that. He knows something has been wrong with her since they came back from Lian Yu. She admitted to having trouble sleeping, she tried to get him to get back together with Laurel and still kept her distance when he told her he wasn't interested. He also knows that she's dating (and Oliver is glad to see that it's leading her nowhere, even if he has absolutely no right to want her to stop).

But what makes him know that something is wrong is the fact that she mentioned the three words. To be honest, he didn't expect her to. He expected her to ignore the whole thing and put it behind her and never bring it up again.

Hearing her joke about it hurt, but he totally deserves it so he's fine with letting it slide. He hurt her when he took the out she gave him on Lian-Yu. The least he can do is take her anger when she releases it.

If the massive beating he received the day after that patrol is any indication, Diggle was as clueless as Laurel about the whole mansion-declaration thing, and he does not support it. Considering the fact that Felicity might have put herself in danger because of that, Oliver must admit that he does not exactly blame Diggle for having Felicity's back.

To this day, Oliver can't say out loud why he let the "I love you" out. He wishes he could take it back, but it's too late and he doesn't want to make it worse.

Even two months later, he remembers Felicity's look of triumph when they tried to anticipate how Slade wanted things to go down.

"_He has Laurel because you love her, right?" she said._

_Oliver gulped but didn't contradict her. Felicity had started pacing in front of him, her fingers playing with her chin distractedly._

"_He'll want to kill her in front of you," she thought out loud. "Do you think he'll want you close?"_

"_Not close enough to get to him," he denied._

_Felicity groaned._

"_It'd be easier if Laurel had had the cure beforehand! Then she could have stabbed him in the neck!" she motioned a stabbing movement, her face twisted in a pout until she suddenly jumped. "Oh my god, that's it! Trade Sara with Laurel! I'm sure he's been waiting for that opportunity for five years!"_

"_What? No, Felicity…"_

_But she was on a roll, already thinking up a plan._

"_Find a way to let him know that he's wrong about Laurel! You and Sara were together until a week ago, right? Get him to know that Laurel is not the love of your life, but that Sara is. He'll try to get her, and she can stab him!"_

_Oliver shook his head dejectedly._

"_But he will expect Sara to fight him, to have a trick up her sleeve. He will see us coming!"_

_He regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth because he saw Felicity reach the same conclusion at the same time as him. This plan of hers, it could work, but it could only work with one person._

"_Then use me."_

"_No."_

_Sara had mentioned doing something unthinkable. But that? No. No way. He could not let Slade know that he had indeed taken the wrong person, and put Felicity in harm's way that much. That would defeat the whole purpose of staying away from her. And what if he was wrong? What if Slade decided to kill Laurel, and then go for Felicity before they could do anything? What if he foresaw that Felicity was stronger than he thought? Surely, Isabel had reported everything she knew._

_But Felicity wouldn't take no for an answer. She was already grabbing his forearm, her eyes seeking his pleadingly._

"_Oliver think about it, it's the only way! He won't see me coming — at best he thinks we're just sleeping together!"_

"_I can't ask that from you…"_

"_You're not asking," she insisted. "My life, my choice. And let's see it that way: if I don't do it, Waller will burn this city to the ground and we'll all die. I don't know about you but that doesn't really make me all tingly inside."_

_He swallowed. She was right. He couldn't let her know why he didn't want her to do it. So far, every time he let her go on the field she had ended up hurt. Whether it was psychological trauma, a slight concussion or a bullet graze, apart from that one time blowing up the Applied Science division, she had always been hurt._

_But she was right. Slade wouldn't see it coming. Isabel underestimated Felicity, even if she knew she was working with him as the Arrow. She wouldn't have warned Slade of just how brave Felicity could be because she had no idea. He would see her as a dumb young girl and never look past it._

_Somewhere in the streets, an explosion blasted, the sound making them jump even from the thirtieth floor. And Oliver made his decision. He'd told Detective Lance a few minutes ago: the city came first._

"_Okay," he said, more to himself than to Felicity. "Okay."_

_She blinked and looked down to brace herself but nodded fiercely. Oliver took her hand and led her out of QC._

"_I know where to go."_

_Like she always did, she trusted him implicitly and let him drive her to the Queen mansion. He barely took the time to tell her every room was stuffed with bugs and cameras before getting off of his motorcycle. He tried to calm his nerves, and he could tell even Felicity was nervous because she didn't talk. She just breathed in slowly, and smiled awkwardly._

"_Show time."_

And what a show time it was. He got caught up in the moment. He played his part too well. He found himself thinking that maybe that was the last time he ever saw her, and he had forgotten to give her the cure before entering the mansion, and then that was all for nothing, and it _couldn't_ be all for nothing… The words just came out.

"Is she in the club already?" he shakes himself. "Do you have eyes on her?"

"Do I look like I can hack into a surveillance camera?" Dig snaps. "It's her job! I sent Roy to meet her there and intervene if need be, act like her druggie boyfriend if he has to, but he's not there yet." He barely takes a breath before throwing him a terrifying look. "If anything happens to her Oliver, I swear…"

"Why the hell didn't she wait for us?" Oliver grounds out, debating how long it will take him to head to XL.

"I believe her explanation revolved around you trusting her enough to hand her out to Slade. So why wouldn't you let her do that, huh?"

The air stills in the new lair, only troubled by the waves of anger rolling off of Dig.

"What?" Oliver blurts out.

"What did you expect, Oliver? You give and you take as you feel, you make people behave the way you want and act surprised when it blows up in your face? You ask of her to basically hand herself to a maniac, tell her you love her out of the blue and then she has to forget about everything and go on with her life?" Diggle is also losing it, his voice carries more and more, and Oliver is reminded of the time he picked Laurel over Deadshot. "She's not a trained spy, Oliver! She wasn't stranded with you god knows where, being turned into a killer! She loses sleep because she relives that night over and over and you fucked up the balance when you said I love you and let her think you didn't mean it! So, really, Oliver, what is it you expected her to do? Stay put and ask how high?"

"_I'm in!_" Roy's voice interrupts them from the computer.

Oliver gulps but says nothing, as Dig sits back down and stares at Roy's dot on the map. It has stopped at the address of the club, which hopefully means that he has found Felicity. Oliver finds that he can't answer Diggle. He doesn't know what he expected. Things to go back to normal? Things to stay the way they are?

"Roy, talk to me," Dig says in the microphone.

"_I'm looking for her, okay? Sin transferred me the info about the spot the dealer usually squats_."

His jaw still clenched, Oliver grabs a comm and puts it in his ear, then spins on his heels and grabs his helmet, heading for his motorcycle. Diggle snorts and shakes his head dejectedly.

"_I… I can't find her_," Roy keeps saying in the comm. "_Where the hell is she?_"

"I'm on my way," Oliver says, straddling the saddle and turning the engine on in the same move.

He hears the blasting basses in his ear but focuses mainly on Roy's words as he walks through the crowd, his eyes wide-open as he looks for Felicity. Five minutes have already gone by, each second spent with Oliver's heart beating out of his chest in worry.

"_Hold on!_" Roy eventually says, as Oliver ignores all the red lights to get faster to the club. He shouldn't be too long now. "_I think I found her but…_"

"_Don't call her by her name,_" Diggle warns. "_She might have used a fake one._"

"_Felicity?_" Roy asks anyway, prompting a desperate sigh from Dig.

"_Why did I even bother?_"

"_Wow, you clean up nice!_" Roy lets out like he can't help it.

"_That's what you call 'cleaning up nice'?_" Felicity's distant voice questions, and Oliver releases a deep, terrified breath, his wrist slightly letting go of the accelerator. "_How low are your standards?_"

"_What, you'd rather I asked you if you shopped at 'Sluts R Us'?_" Roy quips back.

Oliver can hear them move, the volume of the music changing as they cross the dance floor or thread through the crowd.

"_Ha, my mom probably bought it there, to be honest_."

"_Your _mother_ bought you that dress?_" Roy asks, bewildered.

"_She has as low standards for me as you. You guys would get along great,_" Felicity snorts. "_Does that mean that I fit in here?_"

Roy chuckles, prompting Oliver to go nuts. Are they really taking the time to banter when they are so much at risk and Felicity is apparently dressed in a provocative manner?

"_Yeah, you're the prettiest skank in the room._"

"_Aw, now you're just saying that._"

"_Come on let's go, I hear you have some 'splaining to do._"

Oliver can't make out Felicity's response because the music is too loud, but it doesn't matter because he parks not too far from the entrance and has the perfect spot to wait for them — or intervene if need be. He manages to hear that she has what she came for anyway, and soon enough, Oliver sees them emerge from the club, clutching at each other, like Roy is actually taking Felicity home with him — Oliver ignores the surge of hatred that fills him when he spots Roy's hand around Felicity's waist, reminding himself that it's _Roy_, and that he has technically no right to feel that way.

He almost doesn't recognize her — and not in a good way. She looks… Well, he has to agree with her, that's not his definition of "cleaning up nice". She looks trashy, underdressed, and nothing like who she really is. She looks like the kind of girl who parties too much and it doesn't sit well with him that she obviously knows how to give off that vibe because… because Felicity doesn't take drugs, she told him she'd never gone in the "totally plastered" area of drunkenness, and she is not comfortable enough with her dancing skills to grind against someone she doesn't know.

He realizes that she could have been that girl. Her mother bought her that very short flashy dress. Felicity said that if she hadn't believed in herself, she would be a cocktail waitress in Vegas. Oliver never thought that she could play this part so convincingly. That she had come that close to becoming that girl.

He knows exactly when Felicity spots him because she doesn't fake the way she stumbles slightly under his unwavering stare. And he also notices the way she steels herself for what she thinks is going to be a major fight.

Oliver says nothing, motioning for Roy to take down his comm, and let them walk to him.

"I've got her," Oliver tells Roy.

Felicity arches an eyebrow.

"No you don't. In case you haven't noticed, I'm dressed as Manila Whore Barbie, and this Barbie? Doesn't ride motorcycles."

He tries to ignore the fact that she compared herself to a prostitute as she waves at her very short dress and very high heels, and he sighs because she's right. He also has to fight the need to touch her, hug her and make sure that she's fine because _he has no right_. It's becoming harder and harder to keep himself away from her and nights like this night are not making things easier.

"Besides," she adds, opening her clutch and extracting a small plastic bag from it, "there's no need for me to go back to the lair if you're here to pick up the stash. Here," she hands Oliver the plastic bag, "give it to Dig, he'll know what to do. Roy can you drive me home?"

Their fingers brush, sending prickles of electricity throughout his body, as Felicity turns to Roy. She no longer acknowledges Oliver's presence, which he must admit pisses him off to no end, beyond the fact that it looked like he was the only one affected by their touch.

"We need to talk," he grunts out.

Felicity gives him a dismissive side-eye as Roy grows more and more uncomfortable.

"You can take my head off tomorrow, trust me. I just… I really want to go home."

It's in the way her voice falls at the end, the way it loses some strength that he understands that she's close to the edge. He didn't plan on taking her head off, though. He really wanted to talk, understand what was going through her mind.

"Okay," he murmurs. "Roy, take her home, I'll follow you."

Roy nods and wraps his arm around Felicity's shoulders when he sees her shiver. Oliver watches them walk away, taking in Felicity's skinny frame. Has she lost weight? She was never chubby or anything but she used to be more plum and he remembers distinctly just how tight that gold dress used to be on her, how well it would hug every single one of her curves. It's distracting, and once again, Oliver has a hard time remembering why exactly he can't be with her.

"_You better make it right, Oliver_," Diggle demands in his ear.

Oliver doesn't tell him to shut up, but he takes the comm off and fights the desire to crush it with his foot.

Soon enough, Felicity and Roy are driving away from XL and the Glades, as Oliver follows them. It takes twenty minutes to get to her place, twenty minutes during which Oliver debates whether to push her or not. He knows he doesn't really have a right to ask anything from her, but there needs to be trust between them if they want the team to work.

He sees her stumble out of Roy's car groggily, and that's when Oliver makes his decision. He gets off of his motorcycle to reach her and stabilize her but Felicity pushes him away in annoyance.

"Are you okay?" he can't help but ask, scared that she might have been drugged.

"Yes, it's just exhaustion," she answers distractedly. "See you tomorrow Roy, thank you."

Oliver throws the plastic bag over the window for Roy to catch.

"Give them to Dig at the lair. Don't wait for me."

Roy nods and drives off, leaving Oliver to run after Felicity who hasn't bothered to wait for him. She actually looks surprised when she spots him on the stairs that lead to her little townhouse.

"Go home, Oliver," she sighs. "You can punish me tomorrow."

He sees her wince like her words physically hurt, and bangs her head against her door slightly.

"I didn't mean it _that_ way, not in a kinky— You know what? I don't care, think what you want."

He bites his lips to prevent himself from laughing but stays quiet. She eventually manages to open her door, and walks in, looking over her shoulder to check if he intended to follow her.

"We need to talk," he repeated. "I'm not angry at what you did."

Now that surprises her, he can tell. She looks at him in shock, and leaves her door open after a shrug, bending down to unbuckle her heels. Oliver gulps and has to look away because her dress really _is_ short and she obviously has no idea what kind of view of her ass she's giving him — him, and any person walking down the street.

Oliver closes the door, and leans against it, forcing himself to stay at a distance, as Felicity stands back up and throws her shoes haphazardly in the hall. She looks tinier now, definitely shorter than him.

"If you're not angry, what do you want?" she finally asks, her hands plunging in her hair to take out a few pins.

Slowly, her hair cascades down her neck, splay around her shoulders and Oliver looks, fascinated, as the curls fall from their hairdo.

"Oliver!"

"I want to talk."

"Then talk already!" she snaps angrily. "Get to the point! What is it?"

But Oliver stays quiet, he doesn't even know where to start. When did it become this hard to talk to her?

He knows. He's never been able to lie to her, and the one time he faked the lie, the one time he let all his barriers crash and fall, she took the bait and believed he was lying.

He can't ask her what's wrong. He knows what's wrong. He knows he broke her trust when he got lost in the moment, he knows he went too far when he slipped up and he knows she's struggling with his behavior because he wants her to know that she's the most important person in his life while always keeping her at distance at the same time. Even he forgets where the limits lie, where he needs to stop, when he's crossing the line and when he's walking on it.

"Just because I'm not angry doesn't mean what you did is okay."

Felicity stares at him, her mouth agape, then looks down.

"I know," she murmurs.

"Why did you go? By yourself?" he asks, his hands in his pockets, to prevent himself from reaching out to her.

She shows way too much skin and they're alone together, and he can't help remembering the last time it was just the two of them and what came out of his mouth. She's looking at him with her big blue eyes like she did that night when he told her he loves her, and he can feel it in his bones, the need to repeat it, his incapacity at remembering just why he's fighting this in the first place.

Felicity seems beyond exhausted and the truth is, he can relate. He's emotionally drained. Keeping her close and far enough from him at the same time takes so much energy, it's getting harder and harder to do. Too hard.

Felicity wipes a tired hand over her face and half shrugs.

"I miss how things were. When it was just the three of us."

"You seem to get along with Roy just fine…"

Felicity's eyes fly up to meet his and he knows. Roy's not the problem. But he told her he wouldn't get back together with Laurel. It was his way of letting her know — he doesn't love Laurel. Hint: he loves _her_.

"Is this about Laurel?"

"Yes and no. It's just… I don't know, okay? I… I _choke_. It used to be just the three of us and it was hard enough as it was that way. But we managed, and everyone had their own job. You and Dig were on muscle-duty, I was in charge of the computers and stuff. Everyone knew where they belonged."

He dares take a step forward, unconsciously getting closer to her.

"I know what you mean. I miss the foundry, and Laurel knowing is an adjustment I had not anticipated I would have to make. But if that makes you feel any better, Laurel sucks with computers. She's not going to replace you."

"I'm not worried about that."

"What are you worried about then?"

"Nothing."

The answer comes too fast.

"Felicity," he warns, his head tilting.

But she shakes her head and takes a step away from him, then many more and goes to her living-room, her hands flying in her hair.

"No, you know what? It's not fair," she eventually says, pinning him with an angry look. "I'm supposed to open up to you, and tell you what's wrong but you never do me the same courtesy!"

Now, that hurts. Because it's not true.

"What? I always open up to you!"

Felicity steps towards him, pointing an accusatory finger in his direction.

"No, you lean on me when you're backed into a corner and you have no choice and you expect me to give you the mother of speeches to lift your spirits. Which, if you haven't noticed, I'm glad to do, but this here? This is not me needing one of these speeches Oliver."

"I lean on you, yes, because I trust you…"

"Yeah, yeah," Felicity cuts, unmoved. "I'm your partner, I'm your girl! I know. Good for me. I'll keep that in mind next time one of your lies catches up with you."

Oliver wipes a hand over his face, his other fist clenching in his pocket. So it's not just his confession that she doesn't believe. He has managed to screw up their entire relationship, the trust that she had had in him even when he was lying to her on a daily basis. Except then, it was a tacit agreement. She knew he was lying to her, he knew she knew and they worked with that. But he went ahead and changed the rules by mixing truth and lies to the point where no one can tell what is real and what isn't anymore. He rewrote their relationship, and it doesn't sit well with her — the truth is, it doesn't sit right with him either.

"So that's why you took unnecessary risks tonight? Because I lie and you feel like I pick when I need you, and you want to punish me?"

"What?" she asks, her tone an amazing mix of dumbfounded and angry at the same time. "No, I'm not some twisted bitch! God, Oliver, stop with the constant martyrdom already! And you wonder why I can't tell you what's wrong with me? You'll spend your time blaming yourself because you're self-centered and you think everything that's wrong in our lives is on you."

Oliver's eyes blaze with fury and hurt.

"It sounded like you were blaming _me_ when you told Dig I handed you over to Slade!"

Felicity clenches her jaw and shakes her head.

"It wasn't me blaming you, it was me telling him that you can't pick when you trust me and when you don't."

Oliver takes a step in her direction, the couch being the only thing that separates them at this point.

"I always trust you!" he responds angrily. "But I also trust you not to throw yourself in the lion's den without backup and tonight you broke that trust!"

"Well _you_ broke_ mine _first!" she yells.

He knows immediately what she means by that. He's pushed her to the edge, and finally she's pushing back, making him have his back against the wall. Her eyes are glinting with tears, her throat clogged, and she chuckles humorlessly when she hears what she's confessed, knowing full well that he understood what she is talking about.

"Felicity…" he begins, walking around the sofa, but she takes a step away from him, wrapping her arms around her waist protectively.

"No, you need to back off because I think I've humiliated myself enough already. Go away, go home, and do what you do best, ignore what just happened."

He stops moving, but the wave of pain that rolls off Felicity overwhelms him more than the one he's struggling with on a daily basis. The air around them is so electric it makes him feel like he's choking on emotions.

That's it. Another out. He can go, ignore the whole thing and they can start over. Surprisingly, Oliver realizes that he can't do it anymore. He's miserable, he misses what they used to have, can't help but imagine what they could have; he's breaking her and he can no longer go along with it.

"I meant it," he whispers.

Felicity's eyes fly up to meet his, but unlike last time, there's no glint of surprise, or anything remotely happy there.

"Shut up," she chokes.

"I meant it," he repeats, louder, stepping closer to her.

"I don't care!"

Again, he stops moving, shocked. Felicity unwraps her hands from her frame, moving them around her as she starts speaking.

"I don't care whether you meant it or not, Oliver! I'm not an idiot! Because it doesn't change anything, does it?"

So she had him figured out all along? Oliver stays rooted to his spot, unable to speak. But Felicity doesn't wait. She's looking at him, angrily wiping the tear that escapes before it can slide along her cheek.

"Either you didn't mean it and saying it in the first place was just cold and completely unnecessary, or you actually did and it doesn't change a thing because you won't put me in harm's way or some other martyr reason and…" She swallows, her voice breaking a little. "And I'm not interested in that. This is not my definition of 'romantic'."

He finds out he doesn't have any answer to this. Why did he even follow her in the first place? Why did he confront her, when he knew that it was bound to be brought up? Tonight, there's no getting away with a smile and a half-truth, their entire relationship is at stake and Oliver is all too aware of it.

"Look," he begins.

"No, there's no 'Look', there's no letting me down easy after this," she cuts once more. "What did you expect? Me to be over the moon because '_you love me_' but you won't be with me?"

Oliver looks away in shame. She's on a roll, he is not prepared for this conversation and if she would just let him _think_…

"How is that supposed to go in your head? You love me from afar, in the distance, because you're scared that someone might try to kill me to get to you, but you're still keeping me close while you bang women you won't care about and I'm supposed to… what? Wait for you and feel _special_?"

"Of course not!" he answers.

"Then how is it supposed to go, Oliver? Why would you even say it in the first place if it doesn't change anything?"

"I didn't exactly think it through, I was just scared that you might die!" he shouts back. "I got lost in the moment, okay? You were there being you and I was terrified and I started thinking about all the ways this plan could fail and if you were going to die I wanted to come clean!"

Felicity throws her hands in the air and barks out a painful laugh.

"You're such a selfish asshole! So you had to make yourself feel better about the whole thing and not one second you even considered how messed up that could be for me? And you're doing it again tonight! Why would you tell me you meant it if it doesn't change anything? How am I supposed to not resent you for that? How am I supposed to take these words seriously? Because the more you talk, the more I feel like you love how I see you. You love what I represent. You love how I make you feel about yourself. But me? As a person? You don't love me!"

"That's not true!"

"Oliver, if you really did, you'd want to be with me, you couldn't rationalize it and you would not hide behind your fears and choose how I lead my life for me. What I told you about Laurel applies to me too. I'm a grown woman. I can make decisions for myself, and you taking that decision away from me out of misplaced noble intentions makes me beyond angry."

And he realizes suddenly. She's right. He knows why he followed her, why he wanted to confront her tonight, why he didn't force her to debrief at the lair with Diggle and Roy as buffers. He can no longer rationalize why he can't be with her. He's all out of reasons, except for the one that he's terrified that he'll mess up and lose her.

"Why would you even want to be with me?" he finds himself asking in wonder. "I'm a selfish asshole who keeps hurting you."

Felicity clenches her jaw and looks away.

"To be fair, you only hurt me when you tell me you love me but won't be with me."

"I want to," he finally admits out loud, rubbing a hand over his face, and _god does it feel good to let go_. "You have no idea how much I want to."

And the surprise is back in her eyes. He can't control the hope that spreads in his chest. Hope for himself, hope for them.

"But?" she asks, her voice unsteady.

He opens his mouth, ready to say that he'll ruin her, that he'll find a way to mess things up, that she's the only good thing in his life and that he can't fathom ever losing her, but she's looking at him with resolve, already bracing herself for more hurt, and he's _so tired_ of fighting himself, of fighting them, of making the same mistake over and over.

"No more buts," he hears himself say.

He's shocked by the feeling of unaltered peace that seeps into his chest, spreading all over his body. Felicity tilts her head, shocked.

"I don't understand," she stammers.

Oliver shrugs, his fists in the pockets of his pants. She wants to be with him. She's telling him that she wants him, despite everything she knows about his past, about who he is, despite the fact that he keeps pushing her away. He can't keep up with the line they've drawn to delimit their relationship, he doesn't remember what's fair and what's not because the only thing fair is to either let her go completely and cut himself off of her, or give in and trust that she knows what she's getting into, that she won't end up regretting everything.

His mind can't even broach the idea of not having her in his life — it's impossible. The whole point of staying away, of not changing anything is so he doesn't lose her but it's too late. He's already losing her tonight. The only thing he can do is give in. Let completely go. Open himself up and trust that she doesn't realize soon that she made a mistake.

Because he knows that _she_ could never be a mistake to him.

"No more buts," he murmurs, feeling lighter with every word, "no more fighting this. So I'm not taking it back. I want to be with you."

Her eyebrows rise on her forehead, as her mouth opens and her eyes widen in complete, genuine surprise. He's pulled the rug from under her, and he can't help the small smile that spreads his lips until she frowns.

"Is this about Ted asking me on a date?" Felicity finally asks.

Oliver blinks.

"Ted who? Ted _Kord_? He asked you on a date! When?"

Even he can hear the jealousy in his voice. He knows she is dating (he hates the idea alone to be honest, though it's not like he has a right to tell her what to do) but Ted Kord? She can't be serious about dating him, can she?

"The other day," she deflects. "So you didn't know?"

"Does it look like I knew?" he grunts. "Why would I know?"

She shrugs.

"Well, that would explain this sudden change of heart!"

He fights the need to roll his eyes — and the hurt for the lack of trust. It's not like he can blame her after all.

Fine, he'll go all in. Might as well come clean in a full way now.

"I don't want to be with you out of jealousy. You're right, about rationalizing this. I… I can't — I don't want to fight this, not anymore."

Felicity stays rooted to her spot, staring at him as a blush appears on her cheeks and spreads across her face. He smiles timidly and takes a step towards her. For the first time that night, she doesn't move away from him — that's a victory.

"You say I don't love you as a person but I'm telling you, you're wrong."

He takes another step in her direction, and gathers his courage to reach for her hand. It's cold and slightly shaking, betraying her anxiety.

"Do I love the way you see me? Yes, of course. But you're so much more than that to me."

Felicity's blush deepens, and she tries to look away, embarrassed but Oliver doesn't let her. Gently, his fingers turn her chin so they face each other, his eyes seeking hers, pouring every single one of his feelings, hoping she can see that he's no longer lying, no longer trying to fool anyone — himself included.

"I love your laugh. I love that head-tilt-thing you do when you call me on my bullshit, I love how you never take no for an answer and how much of a nerd you can be about anything computer-related… You're the first person I think about when I wake up, you're in my head all day long and there's no way I can spend a day without seeing you."

Felicity bites her lips, and he smiles again, shrugging almost shyly.

"I'm in love with you. And I'm sorry for pushing you away out of 'misplaced noble intentions'."

The blush turns into a deep crimson color that Oliver can't help but find endearing, but her lack of immediate reaction makes his heart beat so fast it hurts. And when she finally reacts, she says the last thing he ever expected.

"Well. Hum. Okay."

Oliver frowns and leans back.

"'_Well, hum, okay_'? _That's_ your response?"

"My response?" she scoffs. "My response to what? I didn't hear any question!"

It takes him a few seconds to connect the dots. Of course. She might be dressed as her idea of a prostitute, but she's still classy and expecting to be treated right. What did he expect, an "I love you too"? That might take a while and he knows it. He goes to hold her other hand and takes a deep breath.

It's reassuring for him that she seems as nervous as he is, that she seems to be as into him as he is into her (even though the way she keeps looking at him when he works out kind of already gave him an idea). Because she's got a pretty good poker face when she wants to and he has trouble reading her.

He grins shyly, his blue eyes boring into hers.

"Felicity, are you free tomorrow night?"

Felicity's eyes glint a little.

"Actually, no. I already have plans."

Oliver feels his face fall as he hears her words.

"You said yes to Ted?" he finds himself asking.

He has no right to be surprised, angry, or hurt, he knows full well. But he poured his heart out for her and that's when she tells him that she said yes to another man? Felicity shrugs half-apologetically.

"He did ask first."

Oliver clenches his jaw, but notices the challenge in Felicity's eyes. Okay, he sort of deserves that.

"Fine," he retorts after a beat, "what about the day after that?"

Felicity blinks, and bites her lips once more. She clears her throat awkwardly, trying to sound carefree — and failing. That's endearing too.

"I'm free."

"Good. Would you like to go on a date with me?"

This time, she doesn't say anything, her teeth sinking too hard in her bottom lip to be able to speak, and just smiles before nodding. Oliver's smile mirrors her own, and he nods too in agreement.

"Okay. So the day after tomorrow. You and I. It's a date."

These four little words make him feel so nervous, it's ridiculous. His fingers clench her hands tenderly and release them as he takes a few steps back towards her hallway.

"We good?" he asks.

She nods again, apparently incapable of speaking anymore, making him chuckle breathily. So that's what it takes to render Felicity Smoak speechless!

She moves, following him slowly as Oliver walks backward to her front door, her eyes caught in his. He's positive she doesn't realize what she's doing until she almost trips on the heels that she left to lie around earlier.

"I'm going, now."

Felicity nods again.

"Okay," she breathes out. Her blush hasn't gone away, he notices.

"I'll see you tomorrow before your thing?"

He can't bring himself to say "date" when he knows she'll hang out with _Ted Kord_. Urgh. Ted. _Theodore_.

"Yeah."

Same breathy tone, same crimson color on her cheeks… her lips are barely opened, wearing a darker shade of pink than the one she usually sports, and he loses it. One of his feet is barely out the door before he spins around, his hands suddenly entangling in her hair, bringing her mouth up to crash against his. He meant for it to be a short, passionate kiss but suddenly he feels Felicity melt into him, her mouth opening to let him in completely and he can't resist at all.

He finds himself walking her back against the wall to steady them, angling her head gently to deepen their kiss, as Felicity presses her body flush against his, making him extremely aware of how little clothes she's wearing.

It takes all his self-control not to move his hands past her naked shoulders, because if he does, he might screw things up and… Oliver has to summon all his willpower before he manages to take a step back and stop touching her.

"Wh-What was that for?" Felicity stammers, her cheeks flaming as she leans against the wall.

He tries to grin confidently but he knows he fails and looks exactly as shaken as she does.

"Trying to get a head start on Ted. And give you a sneak peek of our later dates, if the first one doesn't scare you off."

She chuckles throatily, the sound making him shiver, and pushes him out of her house gently, her hand still trembling. Then she goes back to biting her lip, and Oliver has to force himself to walk back to his motorcycle.

One horribly long evening and a day later, Oliver learns that Felicity never said yes to Ted's date and that her plans for the night before involved a Skype conversation with a friend from MIT and a ton of ice cream.

Oliver shows his relief with bottles of Chateau Laffite Rothschild from 1982 that they have with their favorite order at Big Belly. Felicity doesn't ask for forgiveness — but she does ask for "more of that sneak peek".

This time, Oliver's response is not a speech, nor a non-committal smile.

It's a shit-eating grin and an eager delivery.

**[THE END]**

* * *

**Author's Note:** Hopefully you liked that conclusion. I will be back this summer (for those of you following me, don't be surprised if you see two updates in French before then) with another story focusing on Felicity (how surprised are you?). I have one chapter written already, taking place during her senior year of high school. There might be a few others about her years at MIT, then at QC. For now, it'll mostly be about how she evolved throughout the years but I might put in a few mysteries (yes, I'm crazy like that). I'm still debating where exactly I want to take this, and won't be posting before it's completely done, but just thought I'd give you a heads up and hopefully see you again soon! (though it all depends on me, I'm well aware)

Thank you for reading, and as usual: your opinion matters, so don't hesitate to let me know what you thought! (hopefully good things :-D)


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